


the voice of your eyes

by ebonysblues



Category: Dead Poets Society (1989)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Character Study, Cuddling & Snuggling, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Sharing a Bed, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 22:11:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9848441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebonysblues/pseuds/ebonysblues
Summary: anon said "17 and 20 are very Anderperry" and I obliged with 20. “For once, stop pretending you’re okay! Just talk to me!”





	

It had seemed, to the members of the Dead Poets Society and the students of Wellton Academy, that Neil had changed. Neil’s eyes, in recent days, have been glazed over, absent, the light that had previously existed there having been snuffed out like a candle. It wasn’t hard for people to notice. It was obvious, to say the least. To make matters worse, Neil would laugh off any attempt to console him, he’d say that he didn’t know why everyone was treating him like a sad puppy, that he was fine.

He’s been characteristically similar in his mannerisms, he’s still bubbly and cheeky, still smiles and laughs and jokes around, it’s simply different now. His classmates think they know why, but they don’t. They don’t know that Neil feels like he’s dead, they don’t know that he thinks the blood swimming in his veins is useless, they don’t know that his heart no longer beats its enthusiastic flutter, they don’t know that his soul is struggling against the weight of responsibility and a life that won’t be lived. How could they? How could they possibly understand how it feels to go to heaven and then be immediately taken to hell? They can try to understand all they want, but it won’t make a difference. All he can do is act like he’s still alive, put on a show for an audience that’s never read the script, and pretend that he’s okay. Better than okay, even.

He supposes he wouldn’t have made a living by being an actor anyway. His facade is poorly executed, apparently. His friends are seeing right through him, they know the truth, the one he’s desperately trying to hide. He wishes they didn’t. This would be so much easier if they would let him carry on the way he is.

Then again, this wouldn’t be a problem in the first place if he were a better actor. His father would have seen that he had talent. He wouldn’t have signed him up for military school for the following semester, wouldn’t have had Keating fired, wouldn’t have made Neil think about putting a bullet through his head.

There’s been a few times since then where Neil has regretted not following through with his initial plan. He’s re-imagined the scene frequently, changing the events so that it ends with him lying on the floor, his father waking up from the echoing sound of the shot, getting up from bed and finding his cold, lifeless body lying on the ground with his gun just a few inches from his hand.

He usually shoves those thoughts away, knowing that no good comes from fretting over the past. Nor the future, come to think of it.

It’s only been a week. Yet, somehow it seems like a lifetime ago that Neil had become Puck, had set his spirit free, and was truly happy. It’ll be another two weeks until semester ends. Another two weeks and Neil’s “life” begins.

He’s trying to make things as light and easy as possible before then. It’s why he’s clinging to this skit, playing the part, in the words of Mr. Keating. He loves his friends, doesn’t want to be a burden on them or have any more negative results of his actions be cast upon them, it pains him to see them in agony over Keating’s “relocation”, as Hager had put it, as well as the inevitability of his own leaving. He’s going to do all that he can to leave his friends with an image of him that they know and love. The best case has them all getting over him in a timely fashion.

Todd especially will have a difficult time with it. Their bond is likened to that of an old elderly couple. Neither of them could be content with not talking to each other or not seeing one another. Neil has come to think of Todd as his better half. Todd, meanwhile, is certain that Neil is his soulmate; it’s an undeniable fact that is etched into his entirety.

Neil’s been going to sleep in Todd’s bed since he got back to Wellton. Todd, just after making sure they’re both covered by the blanket, wraps him in his arms, holds him all night long. And they wake up together, early, so that they can lay quietly and without a care before leaving the bed and starting the day. For those few minutes of the cold winter mornings, things are good. Neil doesn’t have to pretend that he’s okay, because he is.

But those few minutes don’t last forever. Inevitably, he ends up having to deal with sitting in English class and looking up at Mr. Keating’s desk expecting to see him but instead seeing some other man who actually cares about what Dr. J. Evans Pritchard thinks. He has to pretend like the sight of him doesn’t grit down on his skin, bruising him until he’s black and blue. He has to lie to himself, tell himself that he isn’t the reason Mr. Keating is no longer their teacher. Neil has to lie to himself about a lot more than that, like about military school being good for him, and about being happy. Seems all Neil does these days is lie, and he’s not even doing a good job at it.

Neil knows it’s only a matter of time before Todd says something. He’s kept quiet while all of the others gave him pity speeches. But the way he’s been looking at him suggests he has something to say.

Neil’s right. It’s that night when the lights are off, the building is quiet, and they’re in bed that Todd says, “You’re not happy, are you?”

Neil feels a frog jump into his throat, and his eyes start to burn. His composure takes a dip in honesty, but it’s only seen by the darkness. He laughs, scornfully, bitterly, full of discontent, “Of course I am, Todd.”

Todd’s quiet for a moment as he grows deep in thought, replaying a memory from earlier that day. Neil, laughing a laugh that didn’t reach his eyes- his once deep and beautiful eyes that are now dull, lackluster, so unlike how they used to be.

“Todd-” Neil starts but doesn’t finish, his words cut short by a hushed, angry voice.

“For once, stop pretending you’re okay! Just talk to me!”

Neil’s taken aback, hadn’t thought Todd would get mad at him. No one’s gotten mad at him. Everyone’s too busy trying not to make him feel worse that they only look upon him with melancholic gazes and whisper corny, uplifting phrases to him.

Neil blinks.

“You’re a good actor, Neil, but you’re a goddamned terrible liar. Tell me the truth.” Todd’s breath hits Neil’s neck and his words hit his heart, it breaks off the casing around it, leaves it bare and open.

Neil blinks again, and a burning streak of salt water falls down his cheek.

“It’s hard to talk sometimes, but that’s how you know what you have to say is important.” Todd grabs onto Neil’s hand, traces his thumb along the back of it, swirls designs into the skin, lets him know that he’s there.

Shifting closer, resting his head on Todd’s shoulder, Neil thinks of how he feels, thinks of how to put it in words. When he finally strings his thoughts together, he lets them unravel out of his mouth and collide with the air and Todd’s neck.

His eyes turn bright when he finishes talking.

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this about a week ago on tumblr and i finally had the chance to post it here too. if you have a prompt, i'd like to hear it! hope this suited your fancy
> 
> also, i changed the title from bright eyes to the voice of your eyes. i still don't like it though so if any of you have a better title i'd like to hear


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